A Moment Like This
by blackangus
Summary: A new chapter in the unfolding relationship between Peter Gunn and Edie Hart. The P.I. and his sultry singer girlfriend have been together five months. When Edie is threatened their relationship moves forward to a new and more intimate level.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own the characters and make no monetary profit from this story. Peter Gunn and Edie Hart own each other. My profit consists of the fun I have with them.**

 _A word of thanks goes to Melchy for affording the inspiration for several of the conversations included in this story. It's always a pleasure to write for Pete and Edie and for those who enjoy the pleasure of reading those stories._

 **A Moment Like This: Chapter 1 of 2**

Edie Hart awoke to the sound of the doorbell ringing, insistently, over and over, the echo of ensuing knocks from impatient knuckles resonating in the heavy, warm darkness of her apartment. Quickly throwing aside the bed covers she grabbed her robe, pulling it on over her nightgown as she stumbled on bare feet from her bedroom and across the living room, switching on a table lamp next to the sofa as she made her way to the door. She had the chain half way undone before she was thinking clearly enough to wonder who might be pounding at her door at four o'clock in the morning. Her fingers lingered on the lock as the unsettling altercation at _Mother's_ resurfaced in her mind.

"Who is it?" Her hand dropped to the doorknob as she raised her voice and asked the question of the person on the other side of the door to Number 15.

"It's me." Peter Gunn's voice. "Open the door."

Edie opened it a crack, the chain still on, and peered out. There was Pete all right, in his suit and and raincoat, his hair wet and matted down by the rain, an expression in his eyes that she was unable to decipher as he looked back at her. She closed the door, undid the chain and moved to the side as he pushed past her into her apartment, then closed and locked the door behind him. Almost immediately his hand was on her arm, spinning her around to face him, a muscle ticking in his jaw, that unfathomable look still in his eyes. He was upset, Edie could tell that, but there was something else there too. She didn't have time to figure it out though as Pete began talking.

"Why the _hell_ didn't you stay at _Mother's_?" he ground out, his voice tight.

Edie stared at him in astonishment. Pete never talked to her like that. He never spoke to anyone that way as far as she knew. At least not when in her presence. He wasn't only upset. He was angry, his eyes darker than she'd ever seen them. Then it hit her. He was also scared. For her. That's what it was, that's what she saw in his gaze. And _that_ was enough to scare _her_.

"Pete-" She tried to pull her arm away but he didn't let go, instead grasping her other arm in the same manner and holding on tightly as he stared down at her face.

"How could you just go outside and get in a taxi and come home after that?" He looked like he wanted to shake her but he didn't. "And Mother and Barney should have known better than to let you leave."

He released her suddenly, her hands going to her arms and rubbing at the imprint of his fingers she still felt there. He hadn't hurt her, his grip had been solid but gentle, yet she still felt its aftereffects. He turned around, his back to her, and she saw him run a hand over his hair and down the back of his neck. His raincoat and suit jacket were pushed aside as his hands went to his hips, arms akimbo as he stared at the opposite wall. Or somewhere. Maybe he wasn't looking at anything at all. Edie couldn't tell.

Life had caught up with him. With _them_. That's all Peter Gunn could think of right now. These past five months had been idyllic. Against all odds he had found a girl when he least expected it, _where_ he least expected it. She was all he had ever wanted and had ever dreamed about and would ever need. He knew things weren't ideal. He worked a lot, they sometimes didn't see each other for days on end when he was involved with a tough case, he couldn't always be with her when be wanted to be or when she needed him to be. But this woman had become his entire world. He hadn't said those three little words yet but they lingered between them in every other word he uttered, in every action, in every moment.

And now everyone knew. Not just their friends. _Everyone_. Waterfront hoods and mob vigilantes and murderous thugs and criminals out for revenge. They all knew that Peter Gunn had a girl. And that made life not so simple anymore. Because having a girl was different from having a girlfriend. It meant something bigger, implied something more, held a greater quality of importance. And it was the one thing that scared him about this relationship, that put the fear of God in him. The thought that she could become the target of those hoods and vigilantes and thugs and revenge seekers scared him in a way he could barely comprehend. And tonight it had happened.

When Pete walked into _Mother's_ less than a half hour ago and found out that Landon's men had been there, and that they had threatened Edie, it had made his blood run cold. Mother had been so furious she could barely get a word out. Barney had taken him aside and repeated exactly what had been said and done. And the cold in Pete's blood had become a burning fire. Barney promised him that he and Mother and Emmett tried to keep Edie from going home by herself but what were they to do? Tie her up and lock her in the dressing room? _Yes_ , he had wanted to scream. _If that's what it took to keep her safe_. Barney and Emmett had both said they would take her home but she'd slipped out the door before they even knew she was gone.

"Pete." He felt her presence as she moved to stand behind him. "Nothing happened, they didn't do anything. They were just trying to scare me."

He turned around and stared at her. She was the one who had been threatened and here she was trying to placate _him_ with soothing words. Those two goons had emphasized in no uncertain terms just what they would do to her if Peter Gunn didn't lay off of Mickey Landon's alleged connection with his current case.

"Just trying to scare you." His unblinking gaze remained steady on her face. "Would you like to know what happened to the last person they _tried_ _to_ _scare_?"

The PI's sarcastic emphasis on those final three words brought an uncomfortable feeling to the pit of the woman's stomach. She backed up half a step, shaking her head hesitantly while wrapping her arms around herself.

"He ended up floating down the river in a dozen different pieces." Pete followed her half step back with a full step toward her, giving answer to his question even though he could see she didn't want to hear. "Just like they told him he would. The police had to put him back together to figure out who he was."

Edie searched his eyes, finding a truth there that she didn't want to see.

"There was a full house at _Mother's_. They couldn't have done anything even if they had wanted to. They couldn't-"

"They could have waited outside, in the shadows, until you were silly enough to call a cab to take you home," Pete interrupted, his voice tense and impatient. "And then they could have taken you somewhere and-" He rubbed a hand roughly over his face, his eyes saying what his voice couldn't. "And I'd be left to live with that. And I couldn't. I'd kill myself rather than have to live with that."

The private investigator released a choked breath and spun around, a couple of long strides carrying him to the apartment door. He pulled it open, pausing only briefly with his back toward her as his name and a question fell from the woman's lips.

"Lock the door and _keep_ it locked. Don't open it for anybody. I'll be back later to drive you to work." He pulled the door shut behind him with a decisive snap, her question as to where he was going pointedly ignored.

* * *

It didn't take him long to track down Mickey Landon. The man rarely strayed from his waterfront office on the other side of the river, instead allowing his employees free rein to take care of any pressing business matters that might either aid or impede his empire of money laundering, murder and mayhem. Landon was one of those lifelong hoods whose oily smile and smarmy work ethic brought out the worst in enemies and friends alike.

Two men were lounging around in the downstairs of the building. Clowney and Proctor, Mickey Landon's number one and number two men. Both were bareheaded and had their suit jackets off and shirt sleeves rolled up to their elbows. And both men were packing heat, as _Front_ _Page_ _Detective_ magazine liked to put it. A third man, one who'd probably be referred to as a nerd by the kids of the day, sat at a desk in one corner, his eyes hidden by black-framed glasses as he pored over the pages of a large book. All three men raised their eyes as the door almost silently opened and fell inward.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Pete Gunn," one of the loungers said, folding the newspaper he was reading and dropping it to his chair as he stood. He began rolling down his shirt sleeves as he stared at the private investigator. "You're not welcome here, Gunn."

"You weren't welcome at _Mother's_ last night but you showed up anyway." The detective had left his raincoat behind in the DeSoto and his suit jacket was unbuttoned. "Let's just say I'm returning the visit." He stepped further into the room but left the door standing open.

" _Mother's_?" The second hood, the redhead named Clowney, pulled himself to his feet and let out a chuckle. "Were we at _Mother's_ last night?" He glanced at his partner and raised his eyebrows. Then he began nodding his head slowly and turned his face back toward Gunn, a big grin splitting his lips. "Oh, yeah. I remember now. That's where we met that pretty little blonde. Come to think of it," Clowney rubbed a thoughtful hand along his jaw, "I seem to remember somebody saying she was a _friend_ of yours."

The first hood, Proctor, had his cuffs buttoned by now and was straightening his tie as he came to stand next to his cohort. He looked at Clowney and gave a snide little laugh and then moved to stand almost chest to chest with the PI.

"A _friend_ , huh? What kind of friend, Gunn?" Proctor sneered. "Cute little girl like that, must be one of those between the sheets kind of friends. You know what I mean? That's what she'd be if she was _my_ friend. I bet she'd be –"

He never knew what hit him, never saw the punch from Peter Gunn's right fist or the left uppercut that followed and left him kayoed on the hard wooden floor. Clowney wasn't as easy to take down. He sported the fists of a prizefighter and a head that seemed as hard as steel and seemed able to withstand whatever Pete threw at him, whether it be a right cross or a wooden stool. By the time it was over between the two of them the private eye sported what would turn out to be one heck of a black eye by the next day and his body felt like it had been run over by a truck. His tie was askew, the breast pocket of his almost new $300 tailor-made suit was ripped and his normally neat hair was mussed all out of proportion, but he was on the winning end of the tussle. Proctor and Clowney were laid out side by side. They would both be staring at the insides of their eyelids for a while.

Pete smoothed his hair and straightened his tie and turned to the mousy man in the corner and almost had to smile. He'd shrunk back against the wall and pulled the big book up in front of himself as though using it for a shield. It was a ledger of some sort. The man must be Landon's money man. Figured.

"Where's Landon?" Pete frowned real hard as he stared at the little man. Apparently his look was intimidating enough because the bespectacled accountant held up a shaking finger and pointed upstairs. The detective bent down to retrieve the blue steel revolvers from the waistbands of both hoods and tossed them across the floor. He gave the other man another hard look as his foot hit the stairs.

"I wouldn't try anything if I were you." Gunn's voice held a subtle threat.

If possible the man made himself even smaller and gave a quick shake of his head. His eyes remained on Pete until the detective disappeared from view at the top of the stairs. Then he began shaking his head and muttering. "Another job, I need another job. My blood pressure can't take this much longer..."

Pete mounted the stairs two at a time then walked about five paces to a half open door. He pushed at it, letting it swing open to reveal a well dressed man sitting behind a desk, seemingly unaware or uninterested in the noisy fracas that had occurred downstairs. The man glanced up as he became aware of movement in the doorway, his eyebrows going up and his eyes widening as he reached toward the side drawer of his desk.

"Not a good idea," Gunn quietly said, the slight movement of his right shoulder bringing Mickey Landon's gaze to the .38 Detective Special the PI held in his hand, barrel pointed toward the floor as his arm hung at his side. Landon's eyes darted to the open doorway. Pete read his mind.

"Don't worry about your boys. They're just having a little nap." Again he almost had to smile. "They had a rough morning."

"What do you want, Gunn?" Landon casually straightened and leaned back in his chair.

"You know what I want, Landon. You're not that stupid." The private detective allowed his narrowed gaze to travel almost insolently over the other man. "Or maybe you are."

"You're sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong, Gunn," Landon warned. "The case you're investigating has nothing to do with me or my business."

"Then you have nothing to worry about do you?"

Mickey Landon rose from his chair as Peter Gunn stepped further into the room, the PI slowly backing him into a corner between the window and an old oak filing cabinet. He watched Gunn's face, stared at his almost emotionless blue eyes, swallowed hard as the muscle in the man's jaw clenched and unclenched. Without his goons to protect him and without a gun in his hand Mickey Landon wasn't a very brave man. He swallowed again as the detective raised his right arm and he felt the cold steel of his revolver against his neck. He heard the click as Gunn cocked the hammer with his thumb and then the soft sound of the cylinder revolving.

"You need to call your boys off," Pete advised Landon, his voice low and rough. "And anyone else that might be interested in doing your dirty work for you. Because if I find out that you or any of your friends have been anywhere near _Mother's..._ " Pete allowed the barrel of his gun to travel upwards to rest beneath the man's chin, "...or anywhere within ten miles of someone I care about..." the .38 moved to Landon's temple, "...I'll find you and I'll blow your brains out."

The detective held his weapon against Landon's head until he knew without a doubt that the other man understood his threat and took it seriously. He slowly lowered his arm and backed away, opening the desk drawer as he passed it and removing the pistol he found there. Then he turned his back to Landon and left the room, moving down the stairs and tossing Landon's gun into the corner with the others as he went out the door.

* * *

When the telephone shrilled at just after six-thirty that evening Edie Hart ran to answer it. She had been standing at the kitchen window staring out at the small parking lot of her apartment building for the past half hour. She was already late for rehearsal but Pete had said he would be by to pick her up for work and she wasn't about to leave without him. Not after the events of the early morning. The PI usually showed up at least thirty minutes early. Not today. That worried her because she didn't know whether something had happened to him or if he was so angry with her about leaving _Mother's_ by herself this morning that he had changed his mind about stopping by. But that wasn't like him either. Pete had never been angry with her, not in the entire time she had known him, not until this morning. Exasperated, yes. Irritated? On occasion. But never angry like today. She grabbed the telephone receiver and brought it to her ear.

"Pete?"

"No, it's Mother," came the response to the blonde woman's breathless question. "Are you all right, Edie? Have you heard anything at all from Pete?" Mother continued, not giving her girl singer an opportunity to reply. "He was in here after you left this morning and I swear I saw steam coming out of his ears when he found out what happened. I sure hope that man hasn't gone and done anything foolish." She paused. "Well, more foolish than usual."

"He came by this morning," Edie admitted.

"Was he mad?"

"I'm not sure what he was." Edie gave the older woman a watered down version of what had occurred that morning and repeated the instructions Pete had given her, apologizing for being late and asking Mother to tell Emmett she'd be there as soon as Pete put in an appearance. She listened with half an ear as Mother prattled on, absently answering any questions she was asked, her gaze directed through the kitchen window as she picked up the telephone and moved to stand in the doorway between it and the living room.

The sight of Peter Gunn's '58 DeSoto turning into the parking lot had her interrupting Mother in the middle of a sentence, quickly telling the woman goodbye and setting the phone on the coffee table and dropping the receiver into the cradle. She watched as the PI pulled into a space and waited for him to get out of the car, which it seemed he was never going to do but he finally did. Then he leaned with his back against the driver's door and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his shirt, digging into his pants pocket for his shiny gold lighter. After his cigarette was lit he remained in the same position, taking a deep drag and releasing the smoke in an elongated stream. He turned the hand holding the cigarette and stared intently at the ashy tip, his other hand sliding into his pants pocket, obviously deep in thought. Pete finally pushed away from the DeSoto and walked around the car, looked both ways and crossed to the apartment house, dropping the butt into the receptacle placed by the door for that purpose before pulling the door open and stepping into the lobby.

Edie gathered her things together, counting the seconds as she waited for Pete's knock on the door. Her purse. Her dress still in its wrapper from the dry cleaners. Her shoes which she quickly slipped onto her feet. Why was it taking him so long? She heard his steps as he reached the top of the landing. But no knock. Not yet. When the rap of knuckles on the door did finally come she was startled by the sound and her heart began beating fast. Edie had a feeling her life was about to change and not for the good. Pete was going to break things off with her. She just knew it. And all because she'd been stupid, because she'd pretended to be oblivious to the threat those men presented, because she had failed to listen to Mother and Barney and Emmett and had acted like there was nothing to be concerned about and had put herself in danger. Had put him in danger. Because she had known where he was going early this morning when he failed to answer her question to that effect. He had been going after the men who had threatened her, nobody had to tell her that. If he was hurt it was her fault and hers alone. And Peter Gunn didn't need some silly careless girl to become a risk to his life and his work.

The two of them barely spoke beyond her subdued greeting when she answered the door. Pete just made a sound in his throat and didn't really look at her as he took possession of her dress on its hanger and waited for her to lock the door behind them. She made no mention of the dark discoloration already beginning to show around and below his left eye and he pretended not to notice her own red rimmed eyes. He followed her down the stairs and through the lobby and out to the car where he opened the passenger side door for her before neatly laying the dress across the wide back seat. Then he got in beside her, backed out and pulled into Willow Street and followed it until it curved onto River Street. Within minutes they were parked at the curb outside the front of Mother's. They went through the same routine as at Edie's apartment only backwards. Once inside Pete handed the dress off to Edie and she made eye contact with Mother only briefly before heading for her dressing room.

The detective kept his eyes on the woman as she moved away, leaving him standing in her wake near the front door. Mother and Barney both stood behind the bar. Something normal for the bartender but odd for the club's owner. It was almost as though she was using it as a defensive barrier. A little smile straightened Pete's lips as he once again procured his pack of Lucky Strikes and lit one before casually leaning against the bar.

"Looks like you'll have quite a shiner there," Mother said, appraising his eye as Barney popped the cap off a small bottle of Coke and handed it to him.

"Should see the other guys," the PI joked, making a face at his cigarette and grounding it out in the ashtray half smoked before taking a long draw of the cold soda.

"The same two who were in here this morning?"

"Mmmmm." Pete's eyes met those of Emmett Ward as the piano player appeared from somewhere in the back to join the other members of the combo who were already tuning up onstage. At Pete's courteous nod Emmett just raised his eyebrows at him and turned on his bench and began running bis fingers over the black and white keys. "Proctor and Clowney." He pulled his gaze back to Mother. "They won't be back."

"How about Landon?" Mother frowned and looked over her shoulder at Barney as the man set down a liquor bottle with a little too much noise. He just smiled and shrugged.

"You don't need to worry about Landon. He won't be bothering us anymore." The dark haired man finished his drink in one gulp and slid the empty bottle along the bar toward Barney. Then he straightened and felt to make sure his suit coat was buttoned before sliding his left hand into his pants pocket and turning to face the door.

"Did you yell at that girl?" he heard Mother ask. Pete turned around and looked at her.

"What do you think?" he asked after a few seconds of searching her expression.

"I think you didn't," the old woman eventually said with a sigh, shaking her head at him and giving him a pointed look. "But that doesn't mean she didn't hear it."

Pete continued to stare at her, some of his weariness beginning to show through. Saying nothing he turned toward the door again.

"Where are you going?" Mother demanded.

"Finish up the case that started all this," Pete answered back in a voice that held a hint of irritation. Not at Mother but at his client. Then again perhaps some of it _was_ aimed at the woman. And maybe just a little of it was directed toward Edie. Sometimes he wished he knew how to say no to some of the clientele he tended to attract. It would make his life a whole lot easier, especially when it came to the female part of it.

"Pete."

Mother's stern voice stopped him in his tracks and he turned back again, his hand on the doorknob, the aggravation he was experiencing evident in his expression as he watched her move to the front end of the bar.

"Do me a favor and don't say it."

"Say what?" Her eyebrows drew together as she stared at him.

"That you told me so." His voice was graveled with tiredness. "That something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. That next time it could be worse." From the corner of his eye he saw Edie join Emmett and the other guys for practice but he didn't look in her direction. "That I shouldn't have gotten involved with her if I couldn't accept the risks involved."

"That's not what I was planning to say," Mother responded dryly. "But it sounds like you've got a good grasp of things."

Pete drew in a deep breath and released it, his gaze dropping to the shiny tips of his shoes as he waited for the woman to continue.

"Do you love that girl?" Mother placed her arms on the bar and leaned toward him. Pete didn't say anything but he didn't have to. The answer to her question was written all over his face as he raised his eyes to look at her. Not that she needed to ask in the first place. She knew good and well what Peter Gunn's feelings were toward her girl singer. It was obvious in every look he gave her, evident with each touch, palpable in the tone of each word he spoke.

"Have you told her?" Again he didn't have to answer her. His expression said it all. The woman shook her head, glancing from him to Edie and back again. Fool kids.

"Don't you think it would be a good idea to do that?" Mother asked in a kind voice. "A woman likes to know where she stands with a man. Likes to know she's not wasting her time on something that's never going to happen."

Pete didn't answer. He loved Mother dearly but there were some things that just weren't her concern, weren't anyone's concern, especially when it came to him and Edie. Mother meant well, but what was between him and Edie was just that, between him and Edie. He pulled the door open and slipped out, closing it softly behind him, Edie's voice and the sounds of the accompanying combo dancing in the air as he slowly followed the sidewalk to his parked car.

* * *

Edie Hart bowed slightly as the final words of her song trailed off into the smoky air, a smile for the audience reaching her lips but not going much farther. Somehow the quick and vibrant words and beat of _Goody, Goody_ just didn't quite fit her mood tonight. She knew the people at the tables wouldn't notice but Mother and Barney and Emmett and the other members of the combo had been around her long enough to be aware that her mind wasn't totally with her music. If it was the mark of a good singer to get through a performance without giving the audience a glimmer of one's inner turmoil or personal doubts then she must be up there with the truly great ones she gloomily decided. After a quick look in the mirror and an extra dab of powder to her nose she left the protection of her dressing room and wandered up front to the bar and sat herself down on the stool by the wall. Barney gave her a Coke and a smile.

It was about a quarter til two. Pete normally came by to pick her up sometime between two and two-thirty unless he called to tell her she needed to make other arrangements. Or unless he didn't have a job that night and instead spent his time at the club, relaxing at a back table and listening to her sing. Edie sat sipping her drink slowly, her fingers idly fiddling with her straw as she took turns watching the customers leave the club and eyeing Mother as she worked on her totals for the night. She was still sitting in the same spot making chitchat with Barney when the door opened and Lieutenant Jacoby ducked in as the last of the regulars slipped out. He stood for a moment and looked around the almost deserted club before removing his hat and acknowledging Mother and slowly walking around the bar.

"Edie." Jacoby nodded politely as he took up residence on one of the stools, leaving an empty seat between him and the blonde. He set his hat on the bar and leaned his elbows on the hard top then glanced at his watch. "Pete been around tonight?" he asked no one in particular.

"Not since he dropped Edie off," Barney eventually answered when neither woman did.

"What time was that?"

Mother gave Jacoby a sidelong stare as she paused in her calculations. She'd been at it with paper and pencil for over an hour already but nothing was adding up right this early morning. Releasing a frustrated sigh she passed both items to her longtime bartender and motioned toward the woman at the end of the bar.

"Edie, will you see of you can figure this out? I can't tell a two from an eight anymore." She turned her gaze back to the Lieutenant. "About seven. Why?" Her impatience with the policeman was evident in the gruffness of her question. Mother didn't dislike Jacoby but she really didn't have any use for him either. He was a friend of Pete's though, and that in itself made him welcome at her place of business.

"Kind of late wasn't it?" Jacoby's soulful brown gaze rested on Edie as his head turned slowly in her direction. "Don't you usually get here at around six?" If he was fishing for some sort of reaction from the blonde woman he was disappointed.

"Not always." Edie gave a little shrug, her eyes on the tip of her pencil as as she made marks on the pad of paper. Mother was really off tonight. She was normally a whiz when it came to totaling her receipts. Her mind must be on something else Edie decided, not having to wonder what. At least Mother wasn't as mad as Pete had been. Or if she was she was hiding it well. Edie risked a quick glance at the older woman as the policeman's attention wandered elsewhere and received a surreptitious wink in return. Apparently she had done something right in Mother's book. When in doubt be evasive, especially when it came to suspicious cops. And how did he know what time she usually arrived at work? What was he doing, spying on her and Pete? If the past twenty-four hours hadn't been such a nightmare it would be laughable.

Edie heard the front door open but didn't look up. She knew without a doubt it was Pete and the manner in which Lieutenant Jacoby gave his watch another glance, clasped his hands on the top of the bar and flexed his slumped shoulders as he leaned slightly back was a dead giveaway in any case. She hadn't known the policeman long but she'd picked up on a few of his nuances in the short time she had. Her pencil continued to move as she kept her eyes on her task. If Pete wanted her attention he'd let her know.

"Where've you been?" The policeman didn't waste time getting to the point as his eyes followed the PI to the seat between himself and Edie.

"Here and there," Pete responded mildly. Reaching into the breast pocket of his crisp white shirt he pulled out his usual pack of Lucky Strikes and lit up. The cigarettes were returned to their rightful place but the PI's gold lighter remained out, his fingers absently moving it in tight circles on the bar as he stared first at the glowing tip of his smoke and then at Jacoby's face. "Something on your mind, Lieutenant?"

"You could say that."

The detective's gaze bounced away from Jacoby as a short glass of ginger ale was set before him.

"Thanks, Barney." His dark blue eyes held the tiniest bit of humor as his attention slid back to the man seated beside him. "Something's on your mind, Lieutenant."

"Very funny." Jacoby didn't sound humored though and looked even less so as he turned in his seat to face his friend. "Always the comedian, always with the joke. You could be in a lot of trouble, you know that?"

"Me?" The PI appeared taken aback. "What did I do?"

"Mickey Landon is dead." Again Jacoby didn't waste any time getting to the point. He rested his forearm along the edge of the bar and leaned toward Pete. "Now," he began. "Are you going to answer my question in the serious manner in which it was set forth or am I going to have to haul you down to the station and interrogate you like a common criminal?"

Pete almost laughed but managed to contain himself. The policeman was in straight-out serious mode, which meant no matter how ludicrous the situation might seem he wasn't fooling around.

"Well don't look at me, I didn't kill him," he said around the cigarette dangling from his lips. He took it between two fingers and tapped it against the ash tray. "Although if you ask me it couldn't have happened to a nicer fellow," he continued in an overly friendly tone.

"Nobody asked you," Jacoby gritted.

"Now, now, Lieutenant. Don't get your hackles up. You'll-"

"Don't tell me what not to do." Jacoby's voice was low and ominous. " _You_ tell _me_ where you've been all day and what you've been doing. And don't give me any of that baloney you usually try to confuse the issue with."

"Where I've been and what I've been doing is none of your business." The PI stubbed his cigarette out and turned on his stool to face the policeman, unconsciously mimicking the other man's pose. Or maybe he did it on purpose. "Besides, I have an alibi." A satisfied half smile ghosted his lips.

Jacoby's eyes flickered past Pete's shoulder to the woman seated against the wall, her gaze apprehensively meeting his as she watched and listened. When he looked back at Pete again he was greeted with a stony stare and an irritated tic of the jaw.

"If you want to haul me down to headquarters and have a go at me with your rubber hose then fine, do it." Pete ground out. "If not then _lay_ _off_." Jacoby intuitively knew that last part had nothing at all to do with Landon and everything to do with the blonde.

"I haven't even told you when Landon was killed." The policeman's lips were a thin line. "So how do you know you have an alibi?"

"Why don't you ask those two flatfoots you've had following me around all day." Pete smirked at the sudden crestfallen expression Jacoby tried unsuccessfully to hide. "I'm sure they'll be more than happy to tell you where I've been every minute of every hour. After all, that's what you're paying them for isn't it?"

"When did you pick them up?" Jacoby resignedly asked.

An incredulous look skittered across the detective's face and he almost didn't bother to answer. But he figured his friend ought to be made aware of just how inept some of his men were. It might make a difference in a case that really mattered one day.

"They were up the street from my apartment when I got back from Landon's place." Pete flicked open the top of his cigarette lighter and stared at the workings, then snapped it shut again and shoved it into his pocket and returned his gaze to Jacoby. "You running interference for your boys across the river now?"

"Captain Petrocelli called to tell me you paid Landon a visit. He hasn't exactly been a model citizen lately so they've been keeping a closer than usual eye on him. Suffice it to say the Captain was a bit taken aback when his boys observed a certain Mr. Peter Gunn come calling."

"Then I'm sure Captain Petrocelli also informed you that our Mr. Landon was still very much alive and kicking when I left his place."

"Two of his boys were in here last night," Jacoby observed. "All the way from across the river. Then you go over there today. Not your usual stomping grounds," he mused. "You have to admit it looks a little fishy. You're not welcome over there Pete, especially not by guys like Mickey Landon."

"So I was told."

"What did his boys want?"

"Why don't you ask them?" the PI shrugged as though unconcerned

"Don't think I haven't tried." Jacoby's voice struck a sour chord. "Between Petrocelli's men interrogating them about Landon's murder and my questions about what they were up to this side of the river..." The policeman imitated Pete's shrug. "They weren't being very cooperative. When I asked about you they just played dumb. Believe me, it wasn't much of a stretch. And I don't think they'll give Petrocelli much to go on either."

Pete swung back around to face the counter and picked up his untouched glass of ginger ale and took a sip, watching as Mother accepted a pad of paper and pencil from Edie and rolled her eyes and sighed as she looked at it. She muttered something about paying the girl to be her accountant instead of her entertainment, drawing a vestige of a smile from the younger woman. His eyes followed Edie's fingers as she pulled her Coke closer and took a sip from the straw, her face wrinkling in disgust at the warm taste of the soda. He swallowed his own drink in a couple of quick gulps and got to his feet, reaching beside Edie for her sweater and asking if she was ready to go.

She answered in the affirmative and stood up, her blue gaze taking in the tailored black suit and deep blue tie the PI was wearing. Pete looked as nice as she'd ever seen him, his hair freshly trimmed and neatly combed, his black shoes highly polished, the crisp white cuffs of his Brooks Brothers shirt poking out from his sleeves. She wondered if he had been doing something special tonight and a sharp tingle of self doubt grasped her heart. She didn't want to meet his eyes, half afraid of what she might see there, but she couldn't help herself and looked anyway. He was looking down as he carefully settled the light blue sweater across her shoulders and pulled the collar close and attempted to slip the little button into its hole, squinting in concentration. A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he got the job done and his gaze lifted and met hers. She wondered what he saw in her eyes, if he saw something unsettling. As unsettling as the thoughts skipping through her mind maybe. Whatever the case his eyes darkened in that way they so often did when he looked at her. Regardless of who was there and might be watching he leaned in and met her lips with his in a hard kiss and then took her hand and turned them both toward the door, moving ahead of her as they slipped by the stools that lined the bar.

"That's it?" Jacoby grumbled, sliding off his stool and reaching for his hat. "I could use a little cooperation here Pete."

"What exactly do you want from me?" Pete asked, exasperated, as he stopped and turned back to face the Lieutenant. From the corner of his eye he could see Mother roll her eyes as she closed up the register in readiness for the next night's business, saw Barney untie his apron and toss it into the can with the dirty towels and napkins in preparation to head home.

"The lab boys found your fingerprints on Landon's revolver," the policeman announced.

The PI just shrugged, his lips straightening in the pretense of a smile. He tightened his hand around Edie's as her fingers curled into his palm, her nails digging into the tender flesh below his thumb. He felt her close against his back as he waited for Jacoby to pull his teeth out of whatever he thought he'd sunk them into with his gentle bulldog tenacity.

"And they'll probably find them on Clowney's and Proctor's," Pete conceded.

"Speaking of which..." Jacoby placed his hat on his head and pulled at the brim until it was adjusted to his liking. Then he stood with his hands in the pockets of his raincoat and stared at his friend and studied his blackening eye, his lips thinning in a smile that held a semblance of humor. "Those two looked like they'd been put through the wringer. The boys could probably match your knuckles to Proctor's face. I could arrest you for assault, take you to the station and let you spend a few hours in a cell. Maybe that would loosen your tongue."

The detective sighed, deciding bulldog might be a weak descriptor for the cop. Jacoby wasn't going to give up until he got a little something out of him.

"Proctor said something I took offense to," he told the policeman, not beating around the bush. "So I hit him. I can't help it if he can't take a punch." He quickly held up his hand, palm outward, as Jacoby opened his mouth. "Also none of your business."

"What about Clowney?"

"Tried to hit me over the head with a chair. His aim was bad." Pete smirked as only Pete could. "Mine wasn't."

"And I'm sure none of it was your fault," Jacoby lamented.

Pete shrugged and decided to cut his friend a little slack. As irritating as he could be the policeman was only doing his job. The detective just wished he'd pick better places and times to do it.

"Clowney and Proctor weren't the only ones there," he offered, knowing that little tidbit of information would raise even more questions from Jacoby. But that didn't mean it was his job to produce answers to those questions. And he didn't plan to. He had better things to do with his time than to stand around and be on the receiving end of one of Lieutenant Jacoby's cross-examinations.

"You mean besides Landon?" Jacoby raised an eyebrow as the PI tilted his chin in a curt nod. "Who else?"

"You're the cop. You figure it out."

"Pete-"

The detective ignored him, turning instead toward the door and ushering Edie ahead of him, her hand still firmly grasped in his. As he pulled the door open he abruptly stopped and looked back at Jacoby.

"Oh by the way, Lieutenant." A slightly sardonic grin tilted his lips. "Should I tell your two badges out there they can call it a night or do you want to do the honors?"

* * *

The interior of Peter Gunn's big DeSoto was engulfed in a quiet warmth, the glow from the instrument panel the only bit of light breaking up an otherwise inky darkness. He felt the woman's gaze on him as he shifted gears and pulled away from the curb, unworried that any traffic would be coming along behind him at this hour of the morning. Her eyes continued to move back and forth between him and the view outside the windshield until he swung the car off of River Street onto Twenty-Second.

"Pete?"

"I called ahead to _Guido's_ to reserve a table." Edie didn't know if Pete was ignoring her attempt to begin the conversation they both knew was coming and to be perfectly honest he wasn't sure himself. "Not that it was necessary at this time of night but it makes him feel good when somebody thinks they have to make a reservation."

"Pete, I'm really very sorry." She dropped her gaze to her fingers, barely visible in the dark, twisting restlessly on her lap. "I know what I did was stupid." Edie wasn't sure what to say, she just wanted him to know. Just to _know_. So she forged on, her troubled gaze searching out his profile, lingering on his impassive face with each street light they passed beneath. "You got hurt because I didn't take those men seriously and because I didn't listen to Mother or Barney or Emmett. I never meant for that to happen. I never even thought about it." Her gaze dropped once more to her hands then went back to the windshield before she turned her head to stare out the passenger side window. "I guess that's the problem. I didn't think." She swallowed thickly and gave a short and soft self-derisive chuckle. "I guess that doesn't make me much of a girlfriend for a man-for-hire."

The PI didn't say anything for the final two blocks to the end of the pier where the lights of _Guido's_ stood out against the darkness of the river behind it. He pulled to the side and parked and turned off the ignition, his long fingers lingering on the key for a few brief seconds before he rested his forearms across the top of the steering wheel and stared out into the night. He wasn't aware of how much time passed before he turned his head to look at the woman beside him. She was staring in the same direction he had been, out into the darkness toward the big river they couldn't see but could hear as a few sluggish waves lapped against the shore. His eyes traced the gentle curve of her cheek and he reached out and slipped his hand through both of hers where they lay clasped on her lap, his fingers lacing with hers.

"I would have gone across the river to see Landon one way the other so I'm sure he and his boys were expecting me," he eventually said, staring out into the dark again. "Don't blame yourself for that. Landon took things too far when he sent his boys over to harass you. There are limits to how far most of those people will go but Landon..." His fingers fiddled with the horn button. "There won't be many sorry to see him go." He sighed and flicked a quick glance in her direction as he removed his hand from hers and reached for the ignition key. "And there are times when its not a such a bad idea to listen to Mother or Barney. They've been around and they've seen it all and they were only interested in keeping you safe. As for Emmett..." The PI sighed and Edie almost thought she saw a smile but it never took shape. "About the only thing Emmett worries about keeping safe when disaster strikes is his piano."

The smile might not have been there but a teasing hint of humor was. If Pete was teasing her then maybe things weren't as bad as she thought. She watched him glance toward the little Italian place, restaurant would be an overly generous description, and reach for the door handle. Then his eyes were on her face again, searching her expression in the dim interior of the car. They didn't have to stay and eat just because he'd reserved a table he told her. He could run inside and order something and they could head back to her place. Edie decided she liked that idea, she wasn't really in the mood to be around other people, and while being alone with Pete brought along the possibility of hearing some things she'd rather not contemplate, she would rather be with him nevertheless. She didn't tell him all of that, just said she liked the idea of going home and eating in.

Pete returned to the car in record time, carrying a large brown sack that he set between them on the wide bench seat, shrugging at Edie's questioning look. Guido had chastised him about leaving her out in the car alone, took his money, waved off his order, headed to the back of the establishment and three minutes later came back and shoved the sack into his hands. He had no idea what he'd been given but Edie said it smelled good.

The car was quiet again as the PI drove them back to Edie's apartment house and neither one said anything as they crossed the little parking lot to the front door of the building or as Edie led the way through the lobby and up the flight of stairs to her apartment. Pete followed her across the living room and through the door to the kitchen, setting the sack of food down on the counter while she hesitated in the doorway.

"Do you mind of I go change while you take care of supper?"

Pete glanced up in the process of pulling items from the sack, his laughing gaze saying what his lips wouldn't. Of course he'd take care of getting supper ready, even if it was takeout and was already cooked and fit to eat. One of the first things he'd learned about this woman was that she wasn't a whiz in the kitchen, her repertoire consisting of eggs either boiled or scrambled, which didn't bother him at all because he liked eggs. And while he himself wasn't Chef Boyardee in the kitchen he did enjoy cooking, especially for the two of them.

"Sure," he said with dry humor, returning to his task. "I'll try to manage."

He pulled a couple plates from the cabinet and began filling them with some of the food Guido had sent along. Chicken Alfredo for Edie, Steak Lombardy for himself, some of Guido's famous garlic bread and almond pear tart for dessert. Those were just a few of the things Pete found boxed up in the sack and he was impressed with his little friend's resourcefulness and thoughtfulness. He repacked the remainder of the items and stashed them in the refrigerator. Not finding any wine, he ended up pouring a glass of buttermilk for Edie, then stood there with the bottle in his hand, debating with himself over one of the Budweisers inside the refrigerator door before settling on buttermilk for himself too. He really needed a clear head, he didn't need to foul his thinking with alcohol, even if it was just one beer. After grabbing silverware and paper napkins he carried the plates into the living room and set them on the coffee table then returned to the kitchen for the drinks.

Pete glanced up the short hallway to the bedroom. The door was standing open but there was no sign of Edie. He walked the few steps and stuck his head in the door, hearing the sound of the shower running as he did. He stepped further into the room. It wasn't as if he'd never been in her bedroom before. They had managed to end up there on more than one occasion during the past few months, Edie suggesting in a breathy voice that her bed would be much more comfortable than the sofa they were making out on and he unable to resist. Each time most of their clothes had ended up on the floor before they tumbled to the quilt to continue what they'd started in the living room. Each time he'd somehow managed to make sure they didn't cross that final line, that they didn't reach that point of no return. Because he had promised himself he was taking this thing between himself and Edie Hart slowly. But the softness of her skin against his body as he held her, the warmth of her breath against his face when they kissed, the picture of her lying against the bed covers in the barely-there wisps of her bra and panties was something he had memorized and had taken home with him to dream about each time they'd been together.

Hearing the water shut off Pete turned back to the door, intent on escaping her bedroom before she caught him mooning around, when something tucked into the lower left hand corner of her bedroom mirror caught his gaze. He stepped closer and reached for a small picture, held it between two fingers as he looked at it, a sepia print of the two of them taken in a photo booth at the fairgrounds on the Fourth of July. He couldn't help the smile that tipped the corners of his mouth. Edie had insisted they crowd into the small booth, saying she needed something to remind her he wasn't always that serious-minded Peter Gunn, Man For Hire that she had come to know and love. The smile faded a little. She'd been using that word more and more lately, this whirlwind named Edie Hart. And it scared him, just like everything else about their relationship had scared him from the very first moment he laid eyes on her. Pete returned the picture to its corner and stared at it for another moment then returned to the living room. He removed his suit jacket and hung it carefully over the back of the sofa then went to stand in front of the book shelf in the corner, quietly browsing the titles until she joined him.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own the characters and make no monetary profit from this story. Peter Gunn and Edie Hart own each other. My profit consists of the fun I have with them.**

 **A Moment Like This: Chapter 2 of 2**

Edie glanced at Pete from time to time as they ate. He'd been quiet, giving her not much more than a noncommittal grunt or a monosyllabic yes or no to the few comments she'd made, once not answering at all. She might very well have been alone if not for the fact that she could see him and feel him sitting there on the floor right beside her. When she risked a look in his direction again he had stopped eating and was just making designs with his fork in the sauce that remained on his plate.

"What are you thinking?" she finally got up the nerve to ask, her fingers unconsciously breaking apart the remainder of her garlic bread.

Pete heaved a sigh and laid his fork down, leaning back against the sofa and pulling one knee up and resting his arm across it as he shifted ever so slightly to look at her. When he eventually began to speak his eyes drifted back to his empty plate. She could see him processing his thoughts even as he spoke, choosing his words carefully, saying exactly what he wanted to and nothing more or less.

"When I walked into _Mother's_ yesterday morning and Barney told me what happened-" His voice trailed off and he ran his hand over his hair, the muscle in his jaw ticking, only his profile visible to Edie as he continued. "I was angry." He tossed her a quick glance then looked away again. "And I wasn't sure who I was more angry with. At Landon for sending his boys across the river where they didn't belong to harass you or at Mother and Barney for not keeping an eye on things and letting you leave. Or maybe at you for being sillier than usual and leaving when you should have known better. Or-"

She searched his face as he abruptly stopped speaking and turned his head to look at her.

"Or what?"

"Or at myself for getting involved with you to begin with and putting you in a situation where you were never meant to be."

His voice was low and had a rough quality to it that she had rarely heard in the time she had known him, that same unfathomable look was in his eyes from the previous morning when he had appeared at her door. She couldn't tell if he was still angry but had a feeling the emotion was lurking inside him somewhere and he was refusing to let her see it.

"Pete-"

An almost imperceptible shake of his head silenced her. He continued to look at her for a few moments before abruptly pushing to his feet and gathering the plates and silverware. When she rose to help him he waved her off, saying he'd take care of the dishes and turn the coffee pot on. Once in the kitchen he plugged the percolator in and slid the lever on the bottom all the way to the right for the strongest brew then made quick work of their few dishes. As he completed these little tasks he tried to keep his mind on the things he intended to say, the things he needed to tell the woman waiting on him in the next room. He'd seen the stricken look on her face when he'd said what he did and he hated that, he hated what she must be thinking right now.

The detective had known this night was going to happen eventually. The very moment he'd seen Edie Hart up on that stage at _Mother's_ , even before their eyes met for the first time, he'd been hooked. Pop had told him it would happen one day but his belief in that had faltered over the years. Here he was, approaching his mid-thirties, and before that night five months ago he hadn't met a woman who came even close to doing the things to his brain and heart and body that Edie did. Her presence, her smile, simply a glance from those pretty blue eyes made everything else flee his mind and brought his whole world to a standstill. It had scared him when he felt those things that first night, before he'd even met her, before they had even exchanged a word. It _still_ scared him.

Pete remembered the first time he'd asked her out for coffee. It had ended up coffee and pie and they sat at the little corner table at _Rosie's_ talking for over an hour and for the life of him he couldn't remember a word he'd said by the time he got home. It was after the second round of pie and coffee just a few nights later that he decided to ask her out for dinner. And that's when the fear began creeping in. Because if he asked her out she might want to date. And once they started dating she might want it to become a steady arrangement. If they did the steady thing she might want a commitment and if they did commit she'd expect an _I_ _love_ _you_ from him and _I_ _love_ _you_ might lead to marriage. And he didn't think he could do that. He didn't have a normal job with a normal schedule. He faced death on a regular basis. But in the end he knew he had no choice. He had to take that next step and ask her out because even that early in the game he'd known he couldn't live without her.

When he went back into the living room with their two mugs of coffee – mugs that he bought and brought over because sometimes he found those delicate little cups she used didn't serve a man-sized proportion of coffee when he really needed it – Edie was seated on the sofa, her legs drawn up Indian-style, her eyes watching him cautiously as he set the mugs on the table. He stood there uncertainly, still not quite sure what he wanted to say, suddenly nervous in a way he'd never been before. His hands needed something to do, his fingers wanted something to fidget with. In his right hand pocket they found his lighter and in his left his car keys. He craved a cigarette.

Edie watched as the PI slid his hands into the pockets of his pants and he began to fiddle with the items she knew were there. She wanted to smile but found she couldn't. She just looked at him until she couldn't anymore and dropped her gaze to her hands where they rested in her lap.

When Pete finally said something he seemed to go off on a tangent.

"Did Emmett ever tell you I asked him to introduce me to you?"

Edie's thoughts turned to that Tuesday morning in early April when she'd finally met the handsome man who had walked into the club while she had been auditioning. He'd sat himself down at Mother's table like he owned it that first night she was there and had said something that had the older lady's face lighting up in the first real smile Edie had seen from her. After a few minutes he'd turned to face the stage and their eyes had met and she'd fallen like a ton of bricks. She'd seen him come in several more times that first week, had even gotten up the courage to ask Emmett and a few of the other guys and Barney and yes, even Mother herself, about him. Who was he, was he married, what kind of job did he have that he was always dressed so nicely? The men had all been nice and answered her questions and teased her a little. Mother told her to turn around and run as fast as she could in the opposite direction. Finally one morning a week after she'd first seen him Emmett had introduced her to Peter Gunn.

"When I saw you at _Mother's_ that night I thought you were the prettiest woman I'd ever seen." Pete's voice broke into her thoughts and she looked up at him and realized she'd never answered his question. "I was pretty sure I wasn't the first man who'd noticed that and I figured you had a husband or a jealous boyfriend and I didn't stand a chance with you. But I asked Emmett anyway and when he said you didn't have either one of those I asked if he'd introduce me to you."

Edie didn't know what to say to that and even if she did she would probably have never gotten it out, her throat had tightened so at the emotion his comments produced. Five months they'd been seeing each other and they had never really talked about those first impressions.

"After you let me take you out for coffee a few times and I finally got up the courage to ask you out..." He studied the carpet as his right hand came out of his pocket to rub at the back of his neck then he looked up with a rueful smile. "You said yes and it scared me to death."

"Nothing scares you," she denied adamantly.

"You'd be surprised what scares me." He took the few steps that brought him to the sofa and sat down on the edge of it next to her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him as he turned his head to look at her. He repeated a little of what had gone through his mind earlier. "I was afraid if I asked you out you might want to start dating." Pete's mouth tipped in a crooked smile. "And you did. You didn't waste any time letting me know that."

"I was terribly pushy wasn't I?" Edie relaxed a little and her lips curved in a shy smile. She unfolded her legs and tucked them beneath her and turned sideways to face him.

"Terribly." Pete leaned back and shifted into a more comfortable position so that their shoulders touched and her knees bumped his legs and he reached for her hand.

"And awfully presumptuous."

"Awfully," the PI agreed, lacing his fingers with hers and staring at their hands where they lay against her thigh. "I figured once we started dating you'd want some kind of steady arrangement and you didn't disappoint there either. But I realized that was okay. Because that's what I wanted too." His thumb rubbed absently against the back of her hand. "All the time we've been going out I've been telling myself that I wanted to take things slowly. I thought I was doing the right thing." He turned his gaze to study her face. "I didn't want to go too fast and do something to scare you off or make you think I was some sort of jerk."

"Nothing you could ever do would make me think that."

He continued to study her face, his eyes drinking in everything about her. She watched those eyes and waited for him to continue but he didn't. He just continued to look at her, to watch her, as though waiting for something.

"What _do_ you want?" She heard and felt the nervousness in her own voice. Did he sense it too? He seemed conflicted, like he wanted to say something and didn't know how, but he finally managed to get the words past his lips.

"I know what I _don't_ want," he said. "I don't want to end up as just some guy. As some man you date for a while and that you think about fondly thirty or forty years from now, if you think about him at all." Pete swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He'd never said these words to a woman before and he knew he never would again. They needed to be the right words, the perfect words that would make her understand his feelings and his wants, but no matter how hard he thought about it they still came out simple and rough and uncertain. "I want more than that. I want _you_. I want to be the guy you're still with in thirty or forty years." His eyes searched hers. "If that's what _you_ want."

Edie gaped. She opened her mouth and tried to say something but no words came out. If that was what she wanted? Was this man insane? Her lips formed his name but the word was never uttered as her face lit up in the biggest smile Pete had ever seen from her and she began laughing giddily. Then she was in his lap, her knees snug against his hips, her hands framing his face, and she was kissing him with a passion indescribable with his suddenly very limited vocabulary. Her hands moved to the back of his head and then to the back of his neck and he felt her fingernails dig into his shoulders as he slipped his arms around her and pulled her closer. When he could barely catch his breath anymore he pulled his lips from hers and buried his face against her neck, breathing in the scent of the soap and shampoo clinging to her soft skin before tipping his head to rest his chin on her shoulder.

"That wasn't a proposal." Pete's voice was soft against her ear. "You know that, right?"

"I know," she answered after a barely perceptible half beat.

"Not yet," he amended, his arms tightening around her. "But it will be. When the time is right." His lips caressed the curve of her jaw. "You'll just have to be patient for a while." He grasped her shoulders and gently moved her away so he could look into her face. "I know that's not your greatest virtue but-" Pete abruptly stopped speaking and raised his hands to Edie's face, his thumbs gently wiping at her suddenly damp cheeks. "Edie-"

She interrupted him with a shake of her head and a watery smile.

"You were afraid I'd want to start dating..." She chuckled through her tears. "And after everything that happened yesterday I was afraid you'd want to stop."

He stared into her eyes and tried to say something and shook his head, his hand sliding to rest along the back of her neck as he pulled her to him, initiating the kiss himself this time. It was a kiss hard and strong and forceful, impressing upon her not only his lips but his wants and desires, before tenderness took over. Then his hands ventured beneath the soft pink blouse she was wearing, as they inevitably did whenever the two of them occupied this particular item of furniture, lingering here and there while at the same time pulling her as close as was physically possible.

"Pete?" Edie's voice was a husky whisper against his ear as his lips left hers to trail soft kisses along her cheek and into the curve of her neck, her eyes half closed as she basked in his attention, a bemused smile beginning to curve her lips as she felt the response of his body beneath her.

"Mmmmm?"

"Please don't tell me I have to be patient about other things." She felt the reaction of her own body as his hands slipped downward to cup her bottom and bring her even closer. "If you do I think I may..." A breathy laugh escaped her as his hands delved beneath her blouse again and she felt him undo her bra, a frisson of delight bringing a shiver at the gentle trace of his fingers along the sides of her breasts. "If you do I think I may have to kill you."

Pete's hands reappeared from under Edie's blouse and moved to frame her face, his gaze touching upon the light blush tinting her cheeks as he tucked her hair back behind both ears and then gently brushed at a stray curl along her forehead.

"All I've been able to think about since yesterday morning is what I would have done if something had happened to you." His lips whispered gently across her cheek as his arms slipped around her waist. "And how you'd be better off with some nice boring guy who works a nice boring nine to five job." He left a kiss at the corner of her mouth and lifted his head to look at her.

"No Pete," she protested, shaking her head as her arms looped around his shoulders, her hands at the back of his neck, her fingers playing with the short hairs they found there.

"I crawled into bed for a few hours and instead of getting some sleep I lay there thinking about all the things we haven't done yet." His eyes met hers. "And how we would never have gotten the chance if something had happened and you weren't there anymore and I never saw you again." He swallowed past the sudden dryness in his throat. "I thought I was living a good life before I met you. Maybe it _was_ good but I was only half living it. And I don't ever want to go back to that life. I don't want to take things slowly anymore. I want to do all those things we haven't done yet."

"What sorts of things?" The ghost of a smile pulled at Edie's lips and her fingers worked their way up the back of his head, weaving into his short Ivy League cut and mussing his hair to her satisfaction.

The PI shifted uncomfortably then wished he hadn't. The woman was a tease. She knew exactly what he was talking about. The way she was pressed against him she could feel every inch of him and knew what she was doing to him simply by just being there.

"Those things you don't want to be patient about," he sighed.

Edie's hands moved to Pete's necktie which he'd loosened before supper. She flattened a palm over it, marveling silently at how it's dark blue silkiness stood out in stark contrast against his white shirt. His top button was unbuttoned, the unintentional sexiness of it doing things to her insides she'd never felt before. Her fingers lingered on his shirt for a second or two then dropped to his waist to feel of the rougher material of his pants, her eyes darting to his suit coat where it lay next to him over the back of the sofa. It was the same black suit, the same blue tie that he'd worn on their first real date. She had noticed his attire when he came into _Mother's_ but the significance of it just hit her.

"You had special plans for tonight didn't you? You put on your favorite suit and tie and had your hair trimmed. And _Guido's_..." Her hands slid up his arms, his forearms bare beneath rolled up sleeves. "Pete, you should have said something. We could have stayed for supper, I wouldn't have minded."

The man shrugged off her softly spoken words.

"It's just hole in the wall Italian," he said, eyes smiling back at her.

"I know but I like it."

"Why?" His voice held that indulgent tone it often did with her.

"It was where we ended up on our first date." She teased him with a smile of her own as her fingers made short work of the loose knot of his necktie. "After we got to that fancy place where you had reservations and it was surrounded by fire trucks." Edie wrinkled her nose as she pulled the tie from around his neck and leaned over to drape it neatly on top of his jacket. "I can still smell the smoke. Then when we finally got to _Guido's_ it was late and his cook was home with the chickenpox and two of his ovens were on the fritz." She trailed her fingers gently along his forehead and down his cheeks. "We had to settle for pepperoni, mushroom and cheese pizza. You had a bottle of warm Ballantine Beer and I had a glass of very cheap red wine." She gave a delighted chuckle at the memory. "I loved every minute of it."

Pete couldn't help but cover her half-parted lips with his own, his arms once again going around Edie to pull her unbelievably close. His tongue prodded and played with hers and her arms went around his shoulders, her fingernails scraping along the back of his neck. He pulled his lips from hers and buried his face in the curve of her neck then found the hollow of her throat with feather-light kisses. Her eyes drifted shut as his fingers went to the small buttons of her blouse, releasing the top two as his mouth continued its journey.

"Pete?"

"Mmmhmm?"

"What other plans did you have for tonight?"

There remained a hint of teasing laughter in her question but nervousness covered her smile. The PI paused in his wanderings, his lips stilling on her bare shoulder. When he raised his head to look at her she could swear she saw the same thing in his eyes. The same thing that had been there when he'd asked her out for that first date. The always cool as a cucumber Pete Gunn was nervous as all get-out. And when Pete was nervous he inevitably began to fidget. Which he did. His fingers moved to pull the front of her blouse together, to straighten the collar, to play with a button. She finally grabbed his hands and held them in hers as she leaned back and rolled her eyes at him.

"Pete, stop!" she scolded.

He twisted to the side and grabbed at his suit coat, dipping a hand into one of the inside pockets, his fingers settling around a small tin container. The little box had been in the glove compartment of the DeSoto when he arrived at _Mother's_ , he'd stuck it there after leaving the drugstore. He'd thought about putting it in his pocket at the time but didn't want to chance it somehow falling out at the club, maybe when he was reaching for a cigarette, right in front of whoever might still be there. He could just imagine what kind of stir that would cause. Mother would raise her eyebrows and give him one of those looks she was so good at, like the times she somehow managed to catch him and her girl singer necking out back. She always acted so shocked. What did she think they were doing out there anyway? Practicing their multiplication tables? Then there was Barney. Good old Barney. He'd probably pause in the act of drying one of those infernal glasses he was always cleaning, bend down to retrieve the box and hold it out to him with an expressionless "You dropped this, Pete". And all the while chortling on the inside. Or Emmett. He didn't even want to go there. Or heaven help him if one of the waitresses walked by. He'd never live it down. It would be one of those things they all discussed with glee at every Christmas party or New Year's Eve party. Did you hear the one about Pete Gunn and the time the box of Trojans fell out of his pocket right in front of Mother and Barney? And of course there was Edie. Even if the box didn't fall out of his pocket, she had a habit of reaching into one or the other of them in search of a breath mint or a Life Saver or the little box of Sen-Sens he sometimes had with him or even his comb on occasion. He could only imagine her reaching for one thing and finding another. Not that the glove compartment was the safest place either. It was just safer than his pocket. He managed to sneak the tin into his pocket from the glove compartment when he reached back into the car for the bag of food and Edie was busy digging in her own pocket for her apartment key.

The little red and white tin was warm from being in his pocket but Pete didn't notice. He just shoved it into Edie's hand and tried to act nonchalant as he settled back against the couch, watching as she turned it over and looked at the imprint and the little Trojan guy on the lid. When she didn't immediately say anything he wondered suddenly if he was being too forward.

"I stopped by the drugstore this afternoon to...you know, pick up a few things." One shoulder lifted in a little shrug. "I thought you might-" He cleared his throat. "I thought we might- If you want to. I mean I know you want to-" That didn't come out quite the way he intended. But he did know she wanted to, that much was obvious from the times they'd ended up on her bed and he had to make sure they didn't go too far too fast and spoil his hard fought resolution to take things slowly. "But only if you want to. I don't want to push you into anything and I don't want you to think things will change between us if you don't. Because they won't. I meant every word I said and you know I-" His head tilted as he looked into her face. "I haven't been with you just on the off chance we might end up in bed together. I don't just want to have sex with you. I'm not that kind of man. You do know that, right?"

"I know you're rambling." She gave him a pointed look along with a mischievous smile then the hand not holding the tin went to his cheek and she leaned in to touch her lips to his in a gentle kiss. "And I know what kind of man you are," she softly assured him. Her hand lingered then she leaned away from him again.

Pete kept his eyes on her fingers as she curiously snapped open the little box. When the contents came into view his gaze slid away and he attempted to keep his thoughts from straying to what they might be doing with those items later. He risked a glance at her face and caught her staring at him in a speculative manner and thought he saw a smile hiding on her lips. He knew he was right when she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and tried not to allow the smile to grow.

"Three?"

"What?" Pete was confused until he followed her gaze back to the tin.

"There are only three."

"I just grabbed a box from behind the counter," Pete shrugged. "I didn't stand there to do a product comparison."

"It says on the inside of the lid that you can save substantially if you ask your druggist for the Number 7 _dozen_ package." She held it out for him to see and then looked at him with a playful frown. "Are you allowed to do that? Just reach across the counter and take something that's back there for a reason?"

"Edie." Why were they even having this conversation? "It was only fifty cents. And there were two old ladies behind me in line listening to every word Jack and I said. I didn't want to titillate their imaginations more than I already had."

"You could have bought a dozen for a dollar fifty and _saved_ fifty cents," she reasoned.

"I can afford not to save fifty cents."

"That's not the point," she told him sweetly, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "And why were you titillating old ladies in the first place?"

"What _is_ the point?" he sighed, exasperated.

"What if we run out?"

Pete stared and wondered if she was serious. She couldn't be.

"I wouldn't care. At that point I'd already be dead from exhaustion."

Pete gave a chuckle as Edie's face flushed a light pink. Then he watched as she became suddenly serious, her eyes on the tin as she snapped it shut and stared at it. Her thumb traced the lettering and the edges and the corners and she leaned into him and placed it against his shoulder, rubbing it back and forth against the pristine white of his shirt, her other arm curling around his neck. Her gaze remained on it, followed it, her expression one of reflection. Her eyes darted to his face then back to her restless fingers and the little box.

"Pete."

"Hmm?" He watched her face and reached a finger to tuck a stray lock behind her ear as he waited for her to continue. She seemed on the verge several times but remained silent and seemed lost in her own thoughts for several minutes. He continued to wait. Then she tried again.

"Pete, do you-"

"It doesn't matter," he gently interrupted.

"What?" Her confused gaze lifted to his. "What doesn't matter?"

"Whatever it is you think you need to tell me." His eyes held nothing but reassurance as they met hers. His hands skimmed along her shoulders and then dropped to the front of her blouse, which had slipped open again, his fingers once again fiddling with the little buttons they found there before lightly outlining the edge of her bra. The barely-there wisp had slid downward after he undid the hooks at the back and was exposing a great deal more of her breasts than he normally got to see. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is you and me. Nothing else."

Edie shifted on his lap, both arms going around his neck, bare toes digging into the sofa cushion, eyes staring intently into his.

"Have you been with a lot of women?"

"No." He tried not to smile. "A few. Not many. Not a lot." He cleared his throat, feeling a flush of embarrassment and mentally calling himself an idiot for feeling that way. He should be able to tell her everything, discuss anything. After all he was an adult man and she was a full grown woman. His gaze fell to her gaping blouse. Very fully grown. He'd had girlfriends and had his share of experience but he certainly wasn't the town Lothario. But he _did_ suddenly feel like a fumbling school boy.

"Is a few more than a couple?" Her fingers under his chin brought his gaze back up and he was looking into her eyes again.

"Yeah, I guess." This time he smiled but tried not to laugh. She wasn't just asking him a question, she was telling him something at the same time.

"Does it bother you?" At his questioning look she wet her lips nervously then hesitantly continued. "That you're not the first?"

Pete lifted a hand to the back of her neck to pull her closer, his mouth quickly covering hers in a hard kiss that evolved into something deeper, something tender and searching and filled with constrained passion. His lips lifted from hers only to trail along her cheek and jawline, to gently deposit wandering whispers of kisses along her forehead and on her eyelids, tenderly drifting to her neck and shoulders. His breath was warm against her ear as he finally spoke in a low voice.

"It would bother me if I'm not the last."

Edie's hands gripped his shoulders and a smile lit her face as Pete tilted his head to give her a sideways look. He raised his chin from her shoulder, his own lips straightening in a little smile as he listened to her chuckle.

"You say the nicest things," she told him. Her hands moved to frame his face, her fingers gentle in the short hair above his ears.

"Yeah, well... Try not to spread it around." His head drew back and his eyes looked into hers from beneath raised eyebrows. "Thing like that could ruin my reputation."

She leaned in and kissed him through quick laughter then gasped and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he abruptly stood, her body sliding down his until her bare feet hit the carpet, his arms tightly around her as he pulled her against his chest and pressed his lips hungrily to hers. He broke the kiss and slowly released her and then stood there seemingly waiting. Edie could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, faster than normal, and a questioning look darkened his eyes. He was waiting on _her,_ waiting for _her_ to make the first move. Ever the gentleman. She gave him a slow, cheeky smile and reached for his hand, pressing the small tin onto his palm as she led him to her bedroom.

* * *

Why did women's clothes always have such small buttons? It wasn't the first time that question had entered Peter Gunn's mind. It always took all the concentration he could muster to get the buttons on the front of her blouse or the back of her dress out of their little holes. And on those other occasions he had nowhere near the prize awaiting him that he did tonight, which made the buttons appear even smaller and his fingers bigger and clumsier. He'd managed the top two easily when they'd been sitting on the sofa but now nothing he tried would work. With a sound of deep frustration he finally grabbed the bottom of Edie's blouse and pulled it up over her head, blindly tossing it in the direction of the bedroom chair where it fell instead to a silky pink puddle on the floor. Her bra came off with the blouse and flew through the air with it, landing on the chair, clinging for dear life to the edge of the seat.

He was impatient. He couldn't help it. And surely no one would fault him for that. His hands roamed the soft skin now exposed to his touch, fell from the silky smoothness of her shoulders to her lower back to pull her close for a kiss that couldn't even begin to express his feelings at that moment. Deep and passionate and desperate and even a little wild. His fingers slipped inside the waist of her lounge pants and quickly slid them and her panties down past her hips, letting them fall to the floor, all without breaking the kiss. He laughed against the woman's lips and released them reluctantly when he felt her kick the garment aside and as her fingers began attacking the buttons on his shirt. Pete leaned away to give her easier access but unlike him she wasn't having any trouble with them. Her face was flushed though. And her fingers were trembling. His hands trailed up her sides to come to rest against her breasts, his gut clenching as he felt the rhythm of her heart jump from rapid to agitated.

Edie's fingers unloosed the final visible button and dropped to the PI's belt buckle. She didn't know why she was so nervous, she'd managed to get his pants off him before and a lot quicker, but that was always in the frenzy of making out, necking, with an inward knowledge that it would go no further than that. She undid his belt and the button and slid the zipper down and felt his awkward movements as he toed off his shoes and then watched as his pants dropped to his feet. Then the always fastidious detective did the unthinkable. He bent down and picked up the pants and threw them in the same direction he'd tossed her blouse, paying no attention to where they landed. The bottom half of his best three hundred dollar suit ended up on the floor in the corner of the bedroom behind the chair, keys rattling and change jingling in the pockets as as they landed there.

Pete sat down on the side of the bed and removed his socks, Edie avidly watching with an amused smile then moving to stand between his knees as he straightened. He gulped. His face was on a level with her breasts and they were the most perfect things his eyes had ever beheld. His gaze lifted to hers briefly before he slipped his hands around to her backside, pulling her against him as he leaned in to take one rosy nipple into his mouth, his tongue playing with it until it formed a hard peak. He heard her gasp and then her hands were at his head, her fingers weaving through his short hair, clutching at it as he moved his lips to the other breast where they duplicated their magic, her hands holding him there as she fell against him.

"Oh, Pete..." She couldn't have said anything further if her life depended on it.

Edie's hands fell to his shoulders, her fingers grasping his shirt and pulling weakly. The detective paused in his ministrations long enough to fumble with the last button and pull his shirt off. He felt her tugging at his t-shirt, giving him little time to do anything else but raise his arms as she yanked it over his head. Then she was back in his arms again and he pulled her close, falling backwards on the bed and rolling over and pinning her beneath him as his lips went back to work, nibbling gently at the hollow of her throat, gliding along the valley between her breasts, lingering at her belly button, all the while his warm breath tickling her skin and cooling the spots moistened by his kisses and his tongue. He sat back, kneeling between her knees, his fingers following the same trail his lips had taken, then moving to skim with a feather-light touch along her ribs and hips and thighs before he settled back over her and met her lips in a deep kiss.

The blonde knew she should be doing something but she just couldn't seem to move. Her legs felt heavy and her arms appeared unable to do anything other than clutch at the man's shoulders like a person adrift at sea would grab onto passing flotsam. Her hands slowly crawled down Pete's back as he peppered her face with kisses, finding the waist of his boxers, fingers coming to life to push at the material. He lifted up and helped her remove them and she felt him hot and heavy against her thigh, his chest a solid weight against her breasts. Then he rolled away, his warmth suddenly gone from her, and she heard him fumbling at the bedside table. She turned her face in his direction, fingers digging into his thigh as she watched him, and then he was back, hovering briefly over her before his body covered hers again and his hands slipped beneath her shoulders. His lips grazed the curve of her jaw and then her cheek and she turned her face toward his, catching at his lips as her arm curved around his neck.

"Pete, please...now."

Edie's fingernails dug into his back as he kissed his way from her chin to her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and nipping gently, his breath fast and hot against her neck as he lowered his mouth to the rapidly beating pulse he found there. She squirmed against him and felt him smile against her skin. "Pete, if you don't...I'll..." She gasped against his mouth as he rediscovered her lips in a quick kiss.

"Are you sure?"

His voice was low and rough and his blue eyes homed in on hers as he shifted a little and she felt his hand feather down her side and along her thigh and then his finger was probing her wetness, slipping inside, his gaze remaining locked with hers. He watched her lips part and her breath quicken even further, a light flush enveloping her face as her nails bit deeper into his shoulders. She felt a delicious pull from deep within and knew she was close, ever so close.

"I need you inside me," she gasped, lifting her head to bury her face against his shoulder even as she continued to cling to him. "Please, Pete..."

And then he was, his body rock solid against hers as he entered her, their legs and feet tangling, his hands beneath her shoulders holding her tightly to him as he paused to allow both of them time to adjust before beginning a slow rocking motion. The orgasm that from his first touch had been building within her quickly consumed her and she felt herself falling, plummeting over the edge as if from a great height before she even realized what was happening to her. She heard herself gasping his name over and over, as though her brain couldn't handle anything more complex, as he continued to move inside her. Heard herself telling him she loved him. Then his mouth was on hers in an almost clumsy kiss and his rhythm changed and he collapsed against her as his own climax hit him, his face buried between her neck and shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

They lay in the same position for a long while, his body heavy against hers, pushing her into the softness of the mattress, her arms around his shoulders, reluctant to let him go. His breathing slowly returned to normal, his heartbeat against hers slowed. She wondered if he'd fallen asleep and she let her own lids fall shut all the way. She didn't even attempt to open her eyes sometime later when he disentangled himself from her. She felt the bed move as he stood and moments later heard the bathroom faucet running, then footsteps on the bedroom floor as he padded into the living room. She heard him check the locks on the apartment door, knew when he flipped the light switch off in the next room and then when he snapped off the lamp inside the bedroom door. Then he was tugging at the bed covers that had never been turned down and somehow managed to get her beneath them before sliding in beside her. He pulled the sheet and quilt up to cover them both and turned on his right side to face her, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her closer before settling his head on the pillow. He leaned in to kiss her bare shoulder and let his lips linger.

"Are you smiling?" Edie asked, the feel of his lips tickling her skin.

"Aren't _you_?" Pete muttered, his smile growing. She had to be. After what they had just done she should be grinning from ear to ear. _He_ was. He felt giddy. He wanted to laugh out loud and he did, he couldn't help himself. He'd never felt this good in his life, had never felt such a sense of well-being, such a sense of belonging. Now his understanding of those things Pop had talked to him about sunk in even deeper. He'd known from the moment he set eyes on her that he would spend the rest of his life with Edie Hart. This simply cemented that knowledge. This was just the icing on the cake. Finally realizing that Edie hadn't answered his question he lifted up on his elbow to squint at her in the darkness. He felt suddenly nervous. Maybe she didn't see things the same way. He was confident that he had satisfied her. Maybe he was feeling overly sure of himself in that department.

"Edie?" He reached out to weave his fingers through the tangles of her blonde hair.

"Hmmm?" She opened her eyes and turned her face in his direction.

"Is everything all right?" Pete's voice held an uncertainty she rarely heard.

"Mmmhmm." She tried not to smile. She didn't want to give him a big head.

He cleared his throat. He didn't want to be casual and cliché about things and ask if it had been good for her. Wasn't that what the man usually asked afterward? That sounded shallow and self-satisfying. He didn't want to be that man. He _wasn't_ that man.

"Was it what you expected?" He leaned closer so that he could better see her face. "Was there something else I could have done? Would you have been more comfortable doing things a different way? Whatever you need just tell me and next time I'll make sure it's everything you want it to be."

Lifting her hand to his face Edie allowed her fingers to trail down his cheek to his chin. Her fingernails ran lightly over his lips as her own trembled with silent laughter. Peter Gunn could be such a _man_ sometimes. Other people didn't realize that because he tended to exude that outward appearance of imperturbability around them. But she knew it as fact. He could be as insecure as the next man given the right circumstances. She patted his cheek.

"Maybe you just need a little practice, honey," she told him with sweet concern.

Pete's head drew back and he stared down at her, a perplexed frown narrowing his eyes. Then that big smile he loved so much graced the woman's lips and she moved her hand to the back of his neck to pull his head closer to hers, her lips catching his in a kiss that could only be described as earth-shattering. His laughter eventually separated them.

"Can I practice on you?" he leered with a grin of his own, slipping his arm beneath her and pulling her close to his chest as he settled back on his pillow. Edie reached out a hand and ran her fingers through his hair.

"You better believe it, Tiger."

* * *

Peter Gunn leaned against the kitchen counter, holding the front page of the newspaper up in front of his face as he chewed ruminatively on a bite of his breakfast. He glanced at the clock next to the coffee pot. Make that late lunch. He felt hot even though he was wearing nothing but his blue and white boxers. He would probably be better off eating nothing at all considering the implications of the headline spread across page one of this morning's _News_ _Standard_. He heard Edie step into the room and pause just inside the doorway but his eyes never left the news article. A moment later she slipped gracefully between him and the newspaper, obstructing his view and interrupting his reading. That really wasn't all that bad of a thing he decided, his eyes dropping to the neckline of the silky cream-colored nightgown she'd put on. Her arms went around his neck as he lowered the paper and set his breakfast aside.

"I woke up and you were gone," Edie chided with a smile. She laced her fingers together at the back of his neck and leaned into him. "I was afraid I'd come out here and find you lying on the floor dead from exhaustion," she teased, repeating his words from early that morning.

Pete placed a kiss on her lips.

"I managed to survive," he responded. "Somehow." Another quick kiss followed. "Want some breakfast?"

Edie glanced at the half eaten slice of cold pizza he had set aside on the counter and the drink he'd poured for himself. She wrinkled her nose.

"Anchovy and cheese pizza? And more buttermilk?"

"It was either that or Budweiser," the PI chuckled. "You don't have much of a selection. Besides, the buttermilk really isn't that bad. I think I'm acquiring a taste for it," he said, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he let his eyes wander over her. "The pizza was in with the stuff from Guido."

She unclasped her hands from around his neck and allowed her fingers to meander down his chest as she glanced at the newspaper dangling from his hand.

"What has you so engrossed in the newspaper?"

The detective raised his hand and showed her the front page. _Mob Boss "Big Al" Fusary Found Dead_ the big headline boasted. A smaller tagline below shouted that Fusary had been found dead in the backseat of his car and that two of his associates were also dead. Another claimed that a mobster by the name of George Fallon was reputed to be first in line to take over Fusary's territory.

"Who's George Fallon?" Edie grasped the edge of the newspaper between her fingers and held it at an angle so she could look at the picture of Fallon that was placed suggestively beneath that of Fusary's death car.

"Nobody you want to know," the PI told her.

Pete dropped the paper on the counter and pulled Edie in for a kiss, enjoying the taste of her lips and the feel of her hands moving gently up and down his bare chest. A few more hours would bring another night of work for both of them so they would do well to take advantage of the simplicity of the moment. Something in his gut told him that life might not be so simple going forward.


End file.
